Only Hope (Part 1)
by wrathfulpeach
Summary: A WWII Kyman love story with some bits of Style! Disturbing at some parts, will have some sexual content as story progresses so be aware that this is yaoi? (or whatever people call gay men love pairings). Don't like it? Don't read :)


_I had never imagined I could be this happy. Never In my life would I have thought to be lying beside a young man who had stolen my heart, broken through all of my guarding walls, and made me feel like there was still hope for me in this world. _

_I turned to face him beneath the warm quilted blankets. He was still fast asleep, his milk chocolaty brown hair half covering his eyes as he did so. He was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. The morning glow of sunshine sparkled on him through the window; he looked like an angel sleeping on a white cloud. God he was gorgeous. _

_His beefy muscular arm was around me, and his other arm was strewn outward; __I __had used it as my own personal pillow all night. It was the best sleep I had had in a very long time and it was all thanks to him. _

_He stirred a little and a quiet low groan escaped him. I watched intently as his big eyes fluttered open; revealing the two golden brown orbs that I had grown to love._

_He blinked a couple times and then a look of concern formed on his face. _

"_Are you alright?" He asked me._

_I smiled at him, "Of course." I continued to stare at him, not being able to take my eyes off of his angelic face._

"_Good." He leaned into me and wrapped both of his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him until we were pressed against each other._

"_E-Eri.." I stammered and blushed._

"_Shh…" he cooed, "Sleep more. You need as much rest as you can get." _

_He pressed his forehead against mine. As he did so, I reached out from under the blankets and gently traced his lips with my finger. His lips were incredibly soft and luscious. _

_He gave them a kiss. "Sleep," He whispered into them. _

_I smiled once more and finally rested my whole body into him. My face nuzzled against his strong chest and my arms pressed against him as well. He was incredibly warm, and being wrapped up in his strong arms made me feel like I was protected from anything the world could possibly throw at me. Nothing could hurt me or make me feel vulnerable at this moment. _

_I slowly closed my eyes afterward and began to drift off into a deep and peaceful slumber._

Part 1

April 15th, 1942

"Dad, where are they taking us?" I whispered roughly as the German police escorted us out of our own house.

"Hush, Kyle. Just do as they tell you and we'll be alright." My father, Gerald Broflovski, murmured back to me.

I eyed my father in disbelief. My whole family was currently being evicted from our home and taken into a small police car headed to God-knows-where! How on Earth was he letting this happen?

"Momma..I'm scared," my little eleven year old brother whimpered holding tight to my mother's arm.

"It's going to be alright, Isaac. Just stay close to me," my mother, Sheila, replied softly.

Two German police officers were guiding my family into a parked police car across the street from our house. It was around seven in the morning when I woke up from a loud knock at the downstairs front door. It hadn't occurred to me that today would be the day that my life would change forever. I would be evacuated from my home, eventually separated from my family, and forced into back braking labor at a God forsaken death camp for people of my kind.

I looked over at my father again as we all began to walk across the street. I couldn't help but notice his worried expression, and his gaze that never seemed to leave the ground.

This wasn't good. Not good at all. My father was naturally an independent man and leader. Usually when a problem presented itself to him, he was never the one to worry about the worst possible outcome or how he could be defeated. He usually took his life problems in stride; continuing to keep his head up above the clouds and reassuring everyone else around him that he was able to handle it all. Now, judging by the foreign expression on his face, it seemed that aspect had been robbed of him._ "The Nazis and Hitler will pay for what they're doing to people. Don't you worry, kids. In times of war we must learn to stay strong, alert, and together as family."_ I remember him saying at the dinner table one night. Now, our worst fears were coming true. We tried desperately to keep a low profile in this town, yet, it seemed not even my father could outsmart the Nazis. I don't know who it was, but someone must have reported us. Neighbors and even friends were turning against each other now… How sick the world was becoming.

"Kyle! Kyle! What's going on?!" I heard a familiar voice call from a couple yards away. I turned my head to the direction where the voice was coming from: It was my best friend, Stanley. His face looked completely distraught and he was panting from running over to me.

Stanley was the same age as me; both of us were eighteen. But that was only one thing that we had in common. Other than our ages, Stanley was completely different from me. He was a couple inches taller than me, and had the build of sporty jock. Although I would consider him on the more slender side of the spectrum, he had acquired muscle through sport playing, and was now the heart-throb of the school, considering the fact that he was also the star quarterback of the varsity football team. He had shiny jet black hair and piercing aquamarine eyes that suited him well. Not to mention, he was extremely hansom. He was everything I wished I could be: Outgoing, fun, athletic, everything going for me… All of the girls in school admired him for his looks and his athleticism, and he was naturally outgoing and friendly to everyone he met. I would say the only thing I had over him was my grades and testing scores. Other than that, he was absolutely perfect. He had a girlfriend that he had been dating for quite some time now, whom he was completely head over heels for. I don't even think I've seen anyone more in love…It was sickening.

The truth was, I was hiding something huge from him that I vowed to God he would never find out about. If I could reveal any secret about myself to anyone in the world, this would be the last thing. In all honesty, I admired Stanley with everything I had. Perhaps a little too much…

Stanley was my first and only crush.

It took me a long time to admit it to myself. I was ashamed that I had acquired a crush on my best friend; I felt like I had betrayed him in some way. He relied on me for everything: Advice, school work, a shoulder to cry on, and distraction from the craziness that life bestowed on us teenagers at times. How could I possibly have a crush on him and be his best friend at the same time?

Most importantly, to admit that I had a crush on Stanley was to admit one other thing.

I was gay.

Christ. If my parents knew about my sexuality, I don't like to imagine how they would respond. I come from a long line of Jews and to be gay was something we really never talked about in my religion or my family. In fact, I was a little bit confused if it was acceptable or not. Either way, no matter how lonely I felt in all of this "self-discovery," I would never allow anyone to know my secret. I would take it to my grave if I had to.

Stanley moved closer to me, his eyes looked completely lost and confused. It made my heart hurt.

"It's fine, Stan. I'm going to be okay." I said trying to portray my father's strong personality, although, I wasn't doing a very good job.

Stanley looked at my family being pushed into the police car and then back at me again. He gritted his teeth and his eyes began to look glassy. I had seen him cry before, but for some reason seeing him cry today was different. He was crying for me.

He stepped in front of me and the police officer who held me by the arm.

"Please…Let him go. He didn't do anything wrong! He's a really good kid and he-," Stanley fell face first into the ground. The police officer and punched him square in the jaw before he could finish his sentence.

"Step aside, boy. Go home." The officer ordered looking down at him on the ground. He stepped past him and guided me along with him.

I didn't take my eyes off of Stanley. I was at lost for words after seeing my best friend get assaulted right in front of my eyes.

As Stanley got back on to his feet slowly, I could see blood dripping from the side of his mouth. He had a scrape on his right cheek from falling face first on the concrete and he stared at me in disbelief.

"Stan.." I whimpered to him. "Stan, I'm sorry." My eyes began to water seeing my best friend like this. He didn't deserve that. I wanted to run to him and hug him so tightly for his bravery…for trying to save me.

He began walking toward me again. This time, his movements were fluid and his eyes were dead set on me. He looked more determined than ever…It was like I was watching him play football at the high school.

He grabbed my other arm and pulled me the opposite direction I was being lead to. He pulled me to his chest with great force, in which, I slammed into him. He covered his arms around my head and I could hear his heart beating a mile a minute. I doubt mine was any slower.

"You aren't taking my best friend away from me," Stanley growled menacingly at the officers. His grip on me tightened.

If I wasn't so scared of what the consequences of his actions would be, I would have savored the moment. Taking in his scent, his touch, how is arms felt around me, how my head fit into his chest. If this was a regular day, I would have had to hold back the urge to kiss Stanley. How I longed for an embrace like this; He was so comfortable to be with, and his grip on me was tight, like nothing could possibly take me away from him. It was perfect.

The wonderful moment didn't last long, before I even a chance to react to Stanley, I heard something terrible. The sound of a gun cocked in my ear. I knew now that one of the officers had pulled a gun out on me, and was threatening to kill me if I didn't comply.

"KYLE! KYLE! MY BABY! DON'T SHOOT HIM, PLEASE!" I heard the sound of my mother's cry from some feet away-Probably already in the police car with my father and little brother. She continued to scream my name, but for some reason every scream was beginning to drown out for me. They started from a blood curdling volume and began to fade into background noise. Everything began to spin around me at that moment. Stan faded away, my mother, father, and my little brother…everything just faded out for me but the gun. I was thinking of death. Paralyzed with fear for my life, I wondered what would happen to me once he pulled the trigger. Would I die instantly like many people claim? Or would I die slowly and painfully, but no one would know I was still alive because I was scattered all over the concrete? Would I go to Heaven? Would I see God? Either way, I wasn't ready to accept death at this age-fast and painless or slow and agonizing. I knew myself too well to know that I was never going to give in and let myself be shot. What would be the point of my short life then? Nothing-And by God I wouldn't let my life be for nothing. I wanted to make something of myself somehow even if I believed I wasn't good enough for anything. Even if I knew the war against my kind was starting, even if I knew I was hated by a group that would do anything to wipe me off the face of the Earth, even if I knew that I was considered to be the scum of society. No, not today; I would not die today.

"P-pl-please don't shoot. I'll-I'll cooperate with you…just don't sh-shoot me, please." I stuttered to the officer who still had the gun pointed at my now sweating temple. He chuckled at me and then I heard him un-cock his gun.

Thank God in heaven. I was safe at least for now, and no one could imagine what relief I felt because of it. In fact, I was so relieved, that I hadn't noticed Stanley staring straight at me with that same horrified gaze I first saw him wearing in the morning. His aquamarine eyes were shining brightly in the spring sunlight and continued to sparkle like two crystal clear oceans.

Poor baby…He's was so concerned about me. Frightened for me…I just wanted to kiss him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. I would be alright and we would be together again soon once this stupid war was over. I wanted to promise him that. But for some reason, I knew that I probably wouldn't be able to keep that promise.

Before I could even say anything to him, I was pulled violently by the arm and dragged across the street in a split second. It was the same officer who had threatened to shoot me, and he was angry that I had caused so much trouble and wasted time. "You stupid little rat! You'll pay for this where you're going. Just you wait." He grumbled as he opened the police car door and forced me inside head first. It was extremely tight and cramped inside the car, as all of my family was inside. I had to readjust so that Isaac could sit on my lap, and I also had to deal with the never ending sobs of my mother who was practically squeezing the air out of me. But I couldn't blame her for it; she had almost witnessed the murder of her oldest son. It was perfectly justified why she was squeezing me and crying. As for my father, his face was paler than the coldest morning frost I find on my window sill in the mid-winter. He was shaking terribly and continuing to glance over at me from the far left side of the car.

"Are you alright?" He managed to ask me.

"I-um..I'm fine, dad." I murmured to him.

What was the point of lying to my father anymore? Of course I wasn't fine! Who on Earth would be fine once they had a gun pointed to their head in the middle of the street?! I just wanted to scream to everyone that I was not indeed "FINE". I was scared to the point of fainting-I was so frightened for my life, that I had lost touch with everything and everyone around me. I was paralyzed almost and the only thing that kept me sane in those moments was my beating heart and my natural desire to live. So, No, I was NOT alright. I was horrible, awful, disgusted with humanity and all of its evils. But I knew that admitting this would scare Isaac even more than he already was and I needed to be strong for him if anyone. He looked up to me and depended on me to protect him and never be afraid of anything. I was his hero and he was my little brother. I could let myself down all I wanted, but I would never let Isaac down. Ever.

Once the two officers entered the front seat of the vehicle, they wasted no time to start the engine and leave the street. In those last moments, I gazed back at my house and saw four other police officers carrying out all of my family's furniture, our china, my mother's precious jewelry boxes, paintings, books, and even our photo albums. This must have been happening while all the commotion was taking place, because it looked like almost all of our possessions were now outside of our house. As soon as the last bit of furniture was carried out, I saw one of the officers tape down our front door, and take out a black spray paint can. He shook it a couple of times and then proceeded to spray paint our front door with the words: _Morten Juden_.

Death to Jews.

I couldn't believe my eyes as I read the harsh message painted on my front door. It was almost like a sign that this house had belong to the dirtiest type of people anyone could possibly imagine, and the public had the right to know what rats lived here before they were evicted; because that's what my family was to the Nazi and possibly to the rest of society.

Rats: Filthy, ugly, disgusting, worthless rats. And that's all we would ever be.

As the car began to proceed down the street, I held my little brother to my lap tightly and leaned my head against his back. I didn't want anything to happen to my family. Couldn't this be enough of a punishment?

Of course not. We had even more punishment and hardship to look forward to as soon as we arrived at our next destination; wherever the hell that may be.

The last thing I did before turning the corner, away from my little house, I looked back to see if Stanley was still there. Indeed he was. But this time, he wasn't standing-He was on his knees in the middle of the road watching the car drive away. He was crying, as his shoulders were shaking and I could see tears falling from his cheeks and on to the pavement. Our eyes met for a moment: A moment I would carry with me through the challenges I would soon be facing wherever I was going. I needed something to hold on to from Stanley that would get me through the days of suffering. What better to get me through it than his beautiful aquamarine eyes that were crying for ME. I felt guilty for using his moment of pain and sorrow for my own benefit, but what other option did I have? I probably wouldn't live to see him again, so this was the perfect opportunity to tell him how I felt about him with my eyes. I tried as best I could, however I really don't believe he understood the message I was sending. He was never really good at picking up romantic queues-even from his own girlfriend.

I almost smiled at the thought, but with Stanley becoming smaller and smaller in my field of vision, the urge to smile soon faded as well. Today I would lose two important things: My house and my best friend. I knew things could be worse, So I had to hold fast to my sanity and my will to live if I was going to get through this: with or without my best friend. I HAD to fight for my will to live. I simply had to.

So as the car turned the corner of the road, I lost sight of the house and Stanley all together. From what I remembered in those last moments, I saw Stanley continuously watching; not taking an eye off the moving vehicle. Then, he was gone. I then turned to face forward again and held my little brother close to me as we drove out of town.


End file.
